


Pyro's Shipping Wall

by avianbrother



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Crack, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Matchmaking, Pyro is a hopeless romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 03:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianbrother/pseuds/avianbrother
Summary: Pyro is a love expert and the #1 team shipper





	Pyro's Shipping Wall

“What is it this time, Pyro?” sighed Sniper, looking up from his knitting. Pyro stopped tugging on the bushman’s sleeve and pointed at the red ball of yarn resting in his lap.

“Huddah,” said Pyro. Sniper grumbled and set down his needles. He opened the bag that was leaning against his rec room lounge chair and pulled out a spare ball of yarn.

“Whatever happened to the other ones I gave you?” he asked before tossing Pyro the yarn. Pyro muttered something and held a finger to his mask in a shush gesture, and then giggled before patting Sniper on the arm and going on his merry way. Sniper continued his knitting. “Bloody weirdo.”  
  
Pyro checked the hall to make sure the coast was clear and slunk into his room. It was…about as clean as one would expect from Pyro, a few scorch marks here and there, the blankets piled on the bed to form a cozy nest. The furniture was minimal, but relatively intact. A massive corkboard covered one wall. He kicked a cushion across the floor so it was near the cork wall. He set the yarn on the cushion and grabbed a pair of scissors from a trunk at the foot of his bed, then plopped on the cushion. He stared at the board, tilting his head this way and that.

There were so many combinations, each as good as the last. No one knew what Pyro did when he locked himself in his room, and it was probably for the best. They wouldn’t know what to make of the different pairings and voyeuristic photos, connected by red bits of yarn. 

Pyro glanced at Heavy’s set and huffed sadly. Only one string connected to Heavy. He was a handsome man, boisterous but loyal. The string linking him and Medic had numerous snapshots of the two of them. To anyone else, it looked blurred, like pictures of UFOs and Bigfoot, but Pyro knew what was up. The way they leaned into one another when they talked or paused to gaze into the other’s eyes, the beaming smiles and long touches, and the compromising positions Pyro caught them in late at night in the medical bay….oh it was so scandalous! Pyro fanned himself from the heat of it all. And yet Heavy only got attention from the doctor…

Pyro mumbled in determination. A man that big and marshmallow-y was obviously stuffed with love and he needed to share it! He snipped a piece of yarn and connected Heavy’s pin to Scout’s. He stroked his gas mask thoughtfully. Scout was small and angry, and Heavy was big and…a little _less_ angry but definitely less talkative. The two would balance each other out. Pyro nodded to himself. Unfortunately, there weren’t any photos so he would have to make due. He rummaged around in his trunk for a shoe box covered in marker and dumped the contents on the floor, spilling out crayons, sticker sheets, craft glue, and a dozen different colors of paper. He scratched his head with a crayon as he figured out the composition of his latest masterpiece. 

Hmm…Heavy was large, very circle-y. Scout was stick-like. Don’t forget the large mouth. Got to get Sasha too.

Pyro’s brows furrowed in concentration; love was very serious business. He held it out at arm’s length, checking it over. When it was deemed finished, he pinned it to the wall along the thread. The drawing showed Scout and Heavy; Scout was handing Heavy a can of Bonk and Heavy was giving Scout a piece of sandvich. Pyro found a sticker sheet of pink foil hearts and placed a teeny heart by their faces. He blushed and cradled his mask in his hands, admiring the pair. He glanced at the gun in Heavy’s hands and had a realization. Quickly snatching up more paper and crayons, he drew Heavy holding Sasha in his arms, bringing the gun in for a kiss with big pouty lips. Pyro put a foil sticker by Heavy’s head. He looked at it. Then he added more stickers until there was a cloud of teeny tiny hearts around them. He pinned it to an empty space on the board and connected it to Heavy’s portrait. Pyro stepped back. He shrugged and added another string connecting Medic to Heavy and Sasha. 

Pyro put his hands on his hips and HUDDAH-ed in triumph before flopping onto the cushion. There was one last foil heart on the sticker sheet. He stuck it on the cheek of his mask.

~~~

The next morning, Pyro was humming his usual tune as he lit the enemy BLUs on fire. Their laughter brought joy to his heart. When the trigger on his flamethrower clicked he went back to Engie’s dispenser.

“Howdy, Pyro.”

“Hudda her-huh.”

Around the corner came Heavy and Scout. Pyro perked up and waved at them. They were too focused on their argument to notice.  
“Oh, so you’re saying it’s _my_ fault we walked into a sticky trap?” said Scout.

“Yes. You are scout, is your job to find danger before it finds us. You need to look more and talk less,” said Heavy, glaring him down.

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Yes_.”

“O-oh yeah, well… maybe if you weren’t so fat you’d—“

Scout didn’t have time to finish as he was fed a delicious knuckle sandwich. He went flying back into a convenient hay bale. Pyro made a strangled gasp through his mask.  
The team couldn’t figure out why Pyro was grumpy for the rest of the day.

When the match finished, he stomped to his room and took down the picture.

~~~

Drunken Scotsman was a very hard language to understand. But Pyro managed to get very good at it.

“Ye know why I lahke you Pyro?” Demo slurred. Pyro cocked his head.

“Her-hunh ah hurn huuhh?”

Unsurprisingly, a drunken Scotsman understood Pyro a lot better than a sober one.

“Nah, is not jest cause ya burn stuff, laddie—er, lass. Whichever ya are.” He pointed a finger at the firebug. “Yer a good listener ya are. Folks don wanna listen to a one-eyed freak. Hell, they hardly wanna look at me. You? Ya know wha is like not havin anyone listen to you. You…” he trailed off, his train of thought stuck at the station. “Feck.” He gave up and took a swig of his scrumpy.

“Hiihs hal haaht, huddeh,” said Pyro as his friend slung an arm around his shoulder. “Hurl hiinh haahun hu hirnhan hu her.”

“Ya really think so?” asked Demo. Pyro gave a firm nod and a thumbs up. Demo chuckled. “Maybe yer right. I know I’m nah much, but I wish there were someone who took a shine to me. Feckin lonely place this is.”

Pyro sat up and began mumbling excitedly. Demo squinted. “Can ya repeat tha?”

“Hi ahm huh Huv Hekhurt. Hi haan hel hu!” Demo rubbed his chin.

“Love expert? I dunnae about that…”

Pyro clasped his hands together. “Heese?”

“Well…ye can help, but yah promise nae to tell anyone what I’m about to tell ya?” Pyro held out his gloved pinkie and Demo entwined it with his own.

“Hi hrumhuus.”

“Good.” Demo leaned in close and Pyro scooted his chair closer. “Don tell anyone, but…I was hoping maybe Sniper would notice me.”

Pyro sat back. “Huh?”

Demo continued his rambling. “I knae he’s a professional, he wouldn’t go fer the likes ah me. Maybe if I cleaned up a bit, he’d say yes.” He stared off into the distance, unaware that Pyro slipped away. “Yah think I should cut my hair?” He turned to the empty chair where his friend was not a moment ago. “Pyro?”

Pyro locked the door behind him and paced. Then stopped. Then paced some more. Then he looked at the cork board. He sifted through the photographs and drawings and string and found nothing. Absolutely nothing. He hung his head in embarrassment. Unrequited love for Sniper was blossoming in Demo’s heart and yet Pyro never even considered pairing the two together. Some love expert he was…

He sank into the cushion and pouted. For a moment, he considered sabotaging Demo’s chances. After all, he was the one going against the wall. Pyro shook his head. No, he couldn’t do that. This was serious business after all. He pulled out the shoe box and got to work.

A hastily made drawing of Sniper and Demo was pinned to the center of the board, decorated with heart stickers _and_ circled in marker. Working into the night, he drafted his plan.

Operation Piss Bomb was a go!

~~~

It might come as a surprise to people that Pyro could be sneaky but he knew that in order to catch a Spy, he had to think like a Spy, and thus became very good at Spy-like activities. Before he could initiate phase two of Piss Bomb, he had to get surveillance on his target.

He chuckled and hunched down into the cluster of bushes beneath the kitchen window. A bag of chips was also hidden, and he paused to lift his mask and munch on a couple chips. Sniper’s van was parked by the kitchen. Pyro pulled out a notepad and a marker. He looked at his wrist to check the time before he realized he didn’t have a watch. He wrote _????_ for the timestamp. And then he waited.

It took very little waiting for him to realize that Sniper was boring. The bushman cleaned his rifle, knitted a sweater, dozed off, and did nothing else particularly exciting. Pyro huffed. Eventually, Sniper left to go to his perch and Pyro took the opportunity to stretch and get some more chips.

Soldier and Engie were in the kitchen, doing something with a sack of potatoes and many, many cans of beans. They smiled at Pyro and went back to talking.

Pyro sighed and nestled in the bushes once more. Sniper returned and went about whittling a piece of wood. Pyro was ready to give up when he heard Demo from inside. He greeted Solly and Engie, leaning on the windowsill as he ate burnt leftovers. He hadn’t noticed Pyro or Sniper.

A chip flew up and hit Demo in the face. He stopped, mouth hung open. He glanced around, shrugged, and continued eating. Another chip smacked him in the face. He swore and finally looked down to see Pyro crouched in the foliage.

“What was that for?” he asked. Pyro flicked another chip and shushed him, then pointed towards the gangly marksman who was thankfully facing away from them.

Demo groaned. “You cannot be serious. Look, lad—lass, whichever you are, I don’t think I can do this. Maybe if we were both ass over tea kettle drunk. Isn’t it unprofessional to be shagging your coworkers? He probably doesn’t even like me.”

Pyro did his best attempt at a scowl through the mask and pointed once more. “ _Huddah_.”

“Oh, alright. But if this doesn’t work, don’t blame me for what happens.” He finished his food and walked to the bushman.

Pyro didn’t stick around for their small talk. He crept past the van, picking up what he needed along the way.

~~~

There was no reason for pink to be such an expensive color. Pyro examined his progress. Pink was definitely the best color, though. He grabbed a heart-tipped arrow and nocked it on the pink Huntsman. It was hard to keep a good grip with his rubber gloves. He couldn’t quite see through his mask, either. It would have to do.

The wings were a nice touch, even if a few stray feathers got glued to his suit. Archimedes and the other doves wouldn’t miss them. After all, doves were birds of love, or something. Pyro fashioned his bedsheet into a weird toga and diaper hybrid. He popped his head out the window, making sure the wind was right for phase two. He snuck down to the kitchen and then back out to his bush.

The sun had already risen above the horizon. Breakfast would be starting soon. His tummy rumbled and he decided to treat himself to extra pancakes when this was over. He had slid the notes under their doors the night before. Soon the lovers-to-be will come out of their rooms searching for each other. He blushed in excitement.

After twenty minutes or so, the feeling that something was wrong began to sink in. Teammates were waking and cooking breakfast. He listened to the different voices but none of them were Demo or Sniper. He waited a little longer then rose from the bush, grumbling and marching over to the van. He knocked on the door and tapped his foot. Nothing. He knocked louder. He pressed his ear to the door and heard someone stirring inside. He rushed back to his place in the bushes, bow at the ready.

The door opened and Pyro popped out.

“Huddah!”

 

“Lad, what are you doing dressed like that?”

Demo had an arm around Sniper’s waist. Sniper’s hair was a mess, his neck and collarbone was covered in dark marks. He was wearing one of Demo’s shirts and Demo only wore a pair of boxers and Sniper’s bush hat. 

“Uh….huddah?”

Pyro couldn’t keep proper grip of the arrow, his hand slipped and the arrow zipped away. Instead of striking in the heart it bounced around and hit Sniper square in the ass.

“HOLY DOOLY!”

The rest of the team was staring out the kitchen. They looked from Sniper, clutching his ass in pain, to Demo, who was trying to yank the arrow out of said ass, and then to Pyro, who stood holding the glorious pink Huntsman. 

And Pyro sprinted through the crowd and back to his room, his sheet flapping behind him.


End file.
